


Pain and Pleasure

by ariapassionflower01



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Anal Fingering, Breaking Up & Making Up, F/M, Nipple Torture, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariapassionflower01/pseuds/ariapassionflower01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily follows Derek after a fight and he isn't so happy to see her at first</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain and Pleasure

I've followed him here. I thought about not doing it, but I did. Somehow, I know that if I don't, I'll lose him forever. I know that he won't be happy, but I feel that I have to do this.   
I feel like I am partly to blame for all of this- this doubt, this uncertainty. That's why I know I have to fix it. I know that he'll probably be mad that I followed him. I'll probably be hearing about it and not in the kind way. But I'm still determined to do this.   
We've had ups and downs in our relationship before, but I have never thought that I would lose him before. Never have I felt that I'm about to lose the world if I don't find away to convince him to come back to me.   
I stand in front of the hotel, pulling myself together. He left me at my apartment in tears, begging for him not to leave me. But then I became determined, unwilling to let him go so easily.   
I've waited several hours to confront him, because I feared that he would reject me. I was afraid that my efforts will not be enough. I still feel this small bit of fear inside me but now it's almost two in morning, and I know I have to go.   
I walk into the hotel and approach the woman at the counter. I walk across the carpet, concentrating on each step I take, praying to God that I won't break down, until I reach the desk. I draw in a deep breath and look up.  
“Good evening. Welcome to the Hampton Inn.” She smiles cheerfully despite the hour. I wish very much so that I had her outlook at this moment in time. But I wouldn't be here if I did.   
“Hi. I'm looking for someone here. A....” I stammer over what to call him. “A... a friend.” The lie sounds stupid in my ears. When was the last time I thought of us as just friends? Several weeks? Months would be more accurate. But time passes so quickly.   
“A friend.” She prompts me and I realize that I have wavered and become silent.   
“Yes.” I push onward. “Derek Morgan. I was supposed to meet him here. He would've checked in about three hours ago. I just need to know his room number.”   
“Let me look at this.” She said and turned to her computer screen. “Oh, he was the last one to check in. You know, we don't get many people in at these late hours, and tonights been kinda slow.” She nods to me as if I understand. I give a fake smile, waiting impatiently for her to tell me the room number.  
“But you know, I think he went out to the pool, but he wasn't taking any swim gear. The pool's not open for swimming after ten. I looked back out there, but he wasn't in the water, so I didn't do anything. But I remember him coming through here.” She raises a brow. “You've got a pretty nice looking friend, honey.”   
I clench my teeth and force the tears not to come. How well I know the planes and curves of his body, the smoothness of his chocolate skin, the kindness in his dark eyes. I have learned of the gentleness and the roughness that his large hands can bring, the pleasure that he has brought upon me so many times. And I am about to lose it all.  
“.... I don't know why he would go out there when he's not allowed to swim.” The clerk rambles on. “And it's pretty late, you know.”  
“Yeah. Thanks for the information.” I say hurriedly, my voice rough. I quickly walk away from the counter to find the door to the pool at the backside of the hotel.   
I come to a glass door and look out to see the pool . I put my hand on the door handle, and my breath catches in my throat as I realize what I'm about to do. It never seemed easy, but now it seems even harder, now that I'm here. The same, old fear strikes me once more as I wonder if he'll turn me back with those flame-consumed eyes. Nevertheless, I can't turn back now. I have to follow through with this.   
I push the door open and step outside. I try to shut the door quietly behind me, wanting to put off the initial reaction as much as possible.   
The desk lady was correct. He isn't in swimming. The pool is surrounded by a white metal fence that stands about as tall as me. Cement runs all around to the edge to the sparkling blue waters, where it is damp from people jumping in and splashing. The azure hue rises up in the dark night, undisturbed by any human figure. Plastic chairs line the edge and that is where I spot him.   
He looks out of place in his jeans and t-shirt in a pool area, but there he sits in one of the chairs. His head is propped up by his fingers and his dark eyes stare out over the water. He looks sad, his jaw jutting outward, unhappily. I realize that it's his own fault that he is so upset, but still feel pain at seeing his dull expression.   
I step forward, my boots heels clicking loudly on the cement. I come to stand across the pool from him and his eyes find me now. There is a moment of silence as he tries process what he's seeing. “Emily?” His hand falls from the side of his head. “What are you doing here?” I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes and then it clicks. His eyes flash and he is out of the chair in a second. “You followed me?!”  
“I can't let you do this.” I immediately begin to explain, ignoring the real answer to his question.  
“Why the hell would you do that?” He continues, his nostrils flaring.  
“Look, Derek,” I say quietly, trying to de-escelate the situation. “I know you think that this is the right thing to do but-”  
“Emily, stop.” His voice echoes in the silence, his command ringing painfully in my ears. “Just stop. You heard what I said at your apartment. It still stands.”  
“But....” My tongue fails me and only produces stuttering. “You... You... didn't.... you couldn't ... mean it....”   
His jaw continues jutting outward, and the muscles clench. “I wouldn't lie to you.” He lifts his chin defiantly, but he's just convincing himself, right?! He is lying! He can't just want this to end because of one incident!  
“I already told you, Emily, this isn't going to work. We can't be putting ourselves in danger to save each other. We-”  
“No!” I stop him, feeling anger rise up within me. “No! You did that! I was not the one that impulsively-!”  
“I did it because I care about y-”  
“So why are you doing this? If you really cared about me, you wouldn't break this off.”  
The argument stops abruptly, our last words hanging in the air. We stand silently across the dancing blue water at our feet, breathing hard. Our faces are probably a mirror of each other's- angry, hurt, frustrated.   
“I can't let you do this.” I finally whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.   
His jaw firms, his eyes turning away from mine. “I'm trying to do the right thing, here.” He says eventually.  
Anger spikes through me, even more harsh than my former sadness. “The right thing!? And who's to say what the right thing is? You? You're not right all the time, Derek! You have to accept that you are not the supreme authority on everything!”   
“I already know that!” He yells back, eyes flashing like lightning. “I'm not the the self-centered son of a bitch that you're making me out to be!”   
Heart pounding, blood heated, I march around the pool, my boot heels echoing. He waits for me to make it all the way around the pool which makes me even more angry.   
“This is all about you, isn't it?” I rant. “You're worried that Hotch is gonna figure this out, and you're going to lose your status with the FBI, because all you care about it you! You!” I shout in his face.  
“No!” His voice rises above mine.  
“Yes it is! You're just worried about yourself. No one else! Just you!” I jab my finger into his chest, shaking with anger and indignation. “You're a self-righteous, self-centered bastard! I hate you! I hate you!” I scream, slamming my fists as hard as I can into his chest. But he is like a stone wall. My blows hardly move him. With tears blurring my vision, and anger erupting in my chest, I attack him without a pause.  
“Emily, stop this!” He grabs my wrists. “Stop this, now! You need to calm down.”   
“No!” I sob, tears spilling out of my eyes, even as I try to fight them. “No, no.” I moan, my voice fading, eclipsed by the emotion washing over me. I stumble back, pulling my wrists away from his grip.   
His eyes soften and he reaches out to me. His hand touches my shoulder, warm and caring. And I almost want to go back to him. I almost want to accept the apology within his eyes. Almost. But then I remember crying and begging, pleading for him not to go. But he did. He shut the door with a bang and left.   
I pull away from him, tears glinting angrily in my eyes. “No. Don't.” My voice quavers. “Don't try that. You're right. You already made yourself clear at my apartment.” I turn and walk away, angry and hurt. I came here to make up, to get him back and I ended up yelling at him and walking out.   
I hurry towards the back door of the hotel, the building blurring before my eyes. I wipe them away, furiously, walking faster.   
“Emily!” He calls after me. I don't listen. I keep walking. I'm not going to let him charm me. He should know that I don't operate like that.  
“Emily, stop.” His voice is more commanding now. I hear him behind me, coming after me. I walk even faster, trying to escape him. I have my hand on the door handle when he grabs my arm. His fingers dig deep into my flesh. He's angry again too! Well, good!  
He pulls me around and slams me up against the wall, jarring the air from me.   
“Don't do this” He says, his voice low, deadly calm. “Don't put this on me.”  
I lift my chin defiantly, forcing my tears back, making myself appear tough and unpenatrable, even though I don't feel it. Truthfully, I just want to escape now. I shouldn't've come here.   
“You put yourself in danger.” He continues. “That was your choice. I did not have to save your ass. I cared enough to go in unprotected to get you.”  
What he says is true. The unsub had gotten me in bad position to say the least and Morgan had run in, uncaring of Hotch's protests, and put a bullet straight through his head. Hotch had been relieved that I was okay, but angry that Morgan had disobeyed orders. Although Hotch usually reprimands any of us in private, he did so in front of the entire team when we exited the building. The two of them exchanged few words and Morgan walked away, pissed as hell. He showed up my apartment tonight and told me that he thought our relationship was hindering our ability to do our jobs and that we should cut it off. I begged, I pleaded, which before I felt was below me, and it didn't do any good. He was gone in ten minutes. It only took ten minutes for my life to go down the drain.   
Now we're both angry and I don't give a damn. I would rather have it this way, I rant inside, trying to believe it.   
Derek's fingers dig into my arms harder as he continues. “At least I tried to do the right thing.” His dark eyes are black as midnight, nostrils flared, jaw taut.   
There is silence, our breathing heavy as he keeps me pinned to the wall. We stare each other down for a second before he suddenly brings his lips down to mine, hard and demanding. His teeth dig into my lips, sending small pricks of pain through them.   
I try to pull away from his grip as I recover from the shock, but he pushes me up against the wall again, harder this time. Still, I struggle, but his body is pressed against mind, hindering my movement.   
His hand moves from one arm to my breast, freezing me. He has the flesh captured with his grip, tightly, and it makes my fighting weaken. The warmth of his palm seeps through my clothing stilling my protests completely. His other hand finds my opposite breast, his hands now covering the two heaving mounds, roughly.   
He takes my lower lip in his mouth, sucking and biting until the flesh is swollen and aching. Then he plunges his tongue into my mouth, ravaging, sweeping through me with his taste. He tongue slides over my palate, stroking me to compliance. I sag against the wall, taken by his affection, as always.   
The entire kiss happens in a flurry of rushed movement, roughly, almost sloppily, but it is still stunning. Despite the pain tingling over my lips, he still manages to take my breath away.   
His hands fondle my breasts in a way that has me breathing hard. His fingers find my hardned nipples through the cloth, manipulating them through the cloth until they chafe against the material of my bra. He takes them between his fingers, pinching, causing me to jerk A moan, unchecked, leaves my mouth, sounding desperate and pleading.   
His palms leave me to unbutton my shirt. He nearly rips it from me and cool night air washes over me. He pushes my bra straps off my shoulders and nearly tears the snap as he pulls it away. His usual, slow, determined, practiced movements are slurred tonight into sexual frenzy that runs us through with want despite our anger that is nearly taking over the sex that is coming.   
He yanks my belt buckle open, his dark eyes filled with fire. He forces my zipper down and pushes my pants over my hips he takes the string of my thongs in his fist and rips them away, tearing the cloth clean in two and causing me to gasp. He grabs me around the waist and under my leg, sweeping my feet our from under me. My back meets the concrete and he pulls off my pants and shoes before I can get a hold on what just happened.   
He grabs my wrists and pins my arms above my head. I give a cry as his teeth catch my nipple harshly. His teeth scrape over the sensitive flesh again and again. My back arches, lifting my breast to him. He takes a hold of my nipple, tugging and biting down hard. I cry out once more, writhing beneath him. He turns his head, twisting, then pulls back, keeping the flesh firmly within his grasp. I moan once more, my breast aching. He lets go and bites over and over, causing me to fight against his grip on my arms. Finally, he lifts his head, his eyes still spitting fire.   
“Does it hurt?” His voice is low, sending a wave of shivers running along my spine. My lips quiver, mute.   
His fingers dig deeper into my wrists, his body pressing heavily against me. I can't take my eyes from his. They hold me in place just as much as his hands as they burn quickly.  
“Tell me.” He commands once more.   
“It.....” My throat is dry, my tongue uncooperative. “It... d-does...”   
He passes my right wrist to his other and brings his hand down to my pained breast. His fingers begin to roughly knead the firm, aching mound of flesh, making the pain multiply. “Say you like it.” His voice is even more quiet now, barely heard over the rippling pool water.   
My stomach spikes, telling me the answer to his question. My heard pounds harder as I realize this. I feel like a robot, unable to control what I do.  
“I.... I d-do....I l-like... it...” I manage to speak between heavy breaths. My heart is thudding in my chest and with these two combined, I can barely breathe. My center begins to burn as I wait for him to administer more of the painful pleasure upon my willing body.   
“Do you want more?”   
“Oh God...” I moan, knowing my own betraying lusts, my own sinful heart. “I....” I can barely speak.  
His fingers continue massaging my breast, distracting and yet magnifying my pleasure. His thumb rubs over my nipple, the flesh red and pained.   
“I... want....” A whine exits my throat as I try my best to speak. “I... want... more....”  
He moves to my other breast at my panted pleas, and his lips meet the yet untouched, hardened nipple. His teeth immediately clamp over the skin, causing my body to jerk. “Oh, God, Derek!” The cry leaves my mouth automatically as pain sears over my breast. His teeth grind, making me moan and buck against his hold. My hips try to shift upwards but the weight of him on top of me doesn't allow me to move. The muscles of my arms go taut but he keeps his grip on me, holding me firmly in place.  
His tongue laves my nipple just before he begins biting and scraping. Over and over, without a pause, he tortures the flesh.  
“Oh God, please! Derek, oh God, oh God!” I'm panting, breathing hard and begging. My eyes sting and I blink rapidly.  
He suctions my breast into his mouth, then slowly lets it slide from between his lips, his teeth scraping, until all that is left in his hold is my nipple. His teeth send pricks of pain shooting through me skin as I writhe in his grasp. He holds me there, tenuously, on the edge of insanity, making me cry out, “God, please!” I pant and beg, but he doesn't listen. Instead, he starts over again, biting, torturing. “No, please.” I groan, fighting his hold on my arms once more. A frustrated cry leaves my mouth as continues onward, until, at last, he lifts his head. My breasts are reddened and pulsating with spikes of pain, causing my eyes to water again.  
I pull in deep breaths, praying silently that he will toy with me no longer. To my relief, his body moves from on top of me and he strips out of his clothes. He tosses his shirt down and unbuckles his belt. Although I want him, I don't move to rip his clothes off as I would on any normal day. I stay on the concrete until he presents me with a blurred image of his proudly erected cock.  
I pray that he will just drive straight into me and not torture me with his painful yet pleasurable touches. He stays above me a moment, as if considering what to do with me. My heart hammers as he goes into action once more with a quick but efficient attack.   
His hands grab me under the ass, pulling me closer to him, but he does not enter me. His large hands cover both my buttocks and his fingers delve between them. A gasp leaves my mouth as his fingertips brush none too gently over the area that he has unexpectedly decided to pleasure. My core spikes, even as he isn't touching it, wetness filling me. I want him in me and he knows this and now he tortures me. But I lay quietly, my body quivering as I wait for him to move past this. There is nothing else I can do.   
He probes, causing me to jerk and gasp again. “Oh God.” I breathe, halfway sitting up on the pool's side. His fingers become stronger and my body rises up off the concrete, my back arching. My mouth opens in a silent cry as the middle finger of his right hand pressures against me, before sliding inside. “Oh God.” I whisper, my body shaking, held tautly off the concrete. I feel his finger move within me, and I feel the arousal grown. Again, my deviant desires betray me to his torture.   
“Tell me you like it.” Derek's voice carries to my ears.   
My eyes squeeze shut as he forces another finger into me. The two sink into me, causing my tongue to lie still and helpless. My body squeezes his two digits tight and he has to push hard to immerse them all the way up to his knuckle. My center pounds with desire, his touch so near to what I want.   
“Tell me.” Derek urges once more.   
“I...” I gasp as his fingers search within me. “I... I like it!” I cry out.   
“Good.” The so common murmured affirmation sends even further desire racing through me.   
He places a hand on my hip and pushes me back down to the ground.   
“Lie still.” He orders, his voice hard as if he doesn't believe that I will. I quiver as I lie on the pavement, immobile. His hand begins to move against me, his finger thrusting within me. Each time he does, my body is jarred. The feeling of his fingers sliding in and out of me in the back, makes me wet with desire. I want to cry out, to beg with him, but I know he won't listen. So I bite my lip and keep my eyes shut as his fingers enter me once more. Several long seconds of this torture pass, and I find it increasingly hard to stay still. Everything within me wants to writhe against his hand, but I know I can't. A small moan begins to slip past my lips with each motion When he forces a third finger into me, I lose all control.   
“Oh, God, Derek, please!” I plead, my body twisting away from him. “Pleeeeaaassseee.....”  
“Stop.” He order, grabbing my hip and pinning me to the concrete. I stare up at him pleadingly. I know that it going to hurt now. Three fingers combined with the hard thrusts I know are going to come spell out pain. Still my center pulsates.   
“Are you done?” He asks, glaring down at me with black eyes.   
“Yes.” I whisper, my voice quaking. Without another word, his hand jerks me. I cry out, my back arching. A dull pain thrums through me as he begins a steady pace. I close my eyes, feeling them water, and cover my mouth with my hand to keep back the long moans. The sound muffled as his hand slams into me harder than before. My hips rise off the pavement, as a sudden pain breaks away from the continuous ache to spike through me. He allows my desperate writhing while he continues to push his fingers into my tight entrance.   
God, he is going to make me come without even entering me!   
His fingers slow, almost to stillness, hardly stroking, and I can barely breathe as I wait. I squeak as he presses his finger against me one last time before his hands slide away.   
I have barely recovered when his hand darts between my legs, to my wet center.   
No! No! I want you, not this.... this sadistic torture! My mind is spinning, not a clear thought passing through my head.   
His fingers brush my hot wet core and I react.   
“No, please.” My voice comes out in a whine and I reach up to grab his wrist. My fingers lock around his forearm as I beg. I look up at him, imploringly, pleading him with my eyes for him to enter me and not drag this out. He's punishing me for following him here!  
His other hand reaches over and his pries my finger away. In a second, he has my arms pinned above my head again. His eyes bore into mine, dark and fire-filled. “Don't fight it.” He orders me. “Be good and maybe I'll do what you want.”   
I swallow, silencing and stilling. I feel my body quivering as his fingers come to me again. He rubs gently over my hot center, but I know that that can change in a second and will. He parts me and his finger become harsher. Suddenly, he slams three fingers into me, causing my hips to rise and a cry to leave my throat. He retracts his fingers and then slams them in once more, all the way to his knuckles. On the third time, he doesn't remove them. His fingers move within me, then rub up against my clit, making my body spasm and tingle - the first waves of an orgasm. But just as soon as he feels me tighten, his fingers leave me. Now, they barely touch me, his fingertips brushing softly. But just as before, they return with a vengeance, slamming into me over and over, until I feel the orgasm coming once more. Once again, his fingers rest within me, and I moan with disappointment.   
He leans over me and his lips brush my cheekbone. My muscles tighten as I realize that he's going to speak again. Oh, God, what will he make me say this time?   
His fingers move within me as his voice, low, whispers in my ear. “Beg me not to. Tell me to let you come.”   
A whimper leaves my throat. I want him so bad! But I don't want to beg, and he knows it. I vacillate, silent and unyielding to his wishes. His fingers begin to slide away from me. Suddenly I become desperate. What if he just leaves me here, naked, unpleasured?!  
“No, wait!” My voice sounds pathetic. “Please.” My breathing becomes deeper as I try to make my tongue say it. “Please,” I whisper, “I want you. Please, don't do it.”  
“Do what?” His tongue touches my earlobe then inside.   
“D-don't.... your hand, don't....please, Derek, please!” I cry. “I want you in me! Please! Please! Finish it! Please!”   
There is a moment of silence, and his hand rests where it is. And then, I feel his fingers leave me and he whispers, voice deeper than before, “Spread. Now.”   
My stomach spikes with the two words. Shaking, I move my legs apart, eager for him. I want his hardness, and to feel his heat flow into me.   
He leans away from me to survey my body splayed out on the concrete, breasts red and bruising, legs laid apart. His eyes rake over me for a second, then switch back to mine, small and black.  
“Wider.” His command sounds loud in the silence. My heart pounds harder as I move my legs apart until my muscles are taut.   
“More.” His voice deepens once more.   
“I can't.” I whisper, shaking my head. My legs are spread as far as I can, my muscles pulled tight.   
His eyebrows pull together and arch, his jaw bunching.   
“Please.” My voice continues in a whine, but I don't care. “Derek, I can't, please.”   
His eyes flash, and he hooks his hands under my knees, straining my muscles and causing me to cry out. He bores down upon me, his tip finding my inflamed center. He penetrates me immediately, driving deep. I arch against him, involuntarily as a sharp pain shoots through me. I cry out as he pushes into me a second time, finding my deepest part.  
“Oh God!” I cry, my hands flying up to latch onto him. My fingers dig into his forearms. He grunts, slamming into me a third time, harder, more forcefully.   
“Oh God, oh God, Derek!” I moan, unable to hold back the pathetic sounds of pleasurable pain.   
I try desprerately to gain control over myself, but all I can do is lie helplessly beneath him as he pierces me again and again. Over and over, wave after wave of pain slices through me from my core to the top of my head. My eyes are stiging, my throat held in a vice grip. I can barely keep my cries from sounding unwilling and pathetic. He throbs within me, hard and thick, stretching me. He pressures hard against my clitoris every time he slams into me, sending pain and pleasure whirling through my head.   
My back scrapes against the rough concrete with each pound, scratching my skin. It will probably leave marks along with the other bruises that I have acquired.   
Each slam becomes harder and more defined, until finally, at last, pleasure rolls through me, washing me in tingles, engulfing me and taking me under. I writhe upon the cement, screams ripping from my throat unhindered. Above me, he is growling, expressing his pleasure, as he spills into me, hot and desirable. He remains in me as the climax takes us both and spends us until we are weak. He slides away from me only after the orgasm diminishes into nothingness, only a memory, but a strong one.   
Long seconds pass in silence. We lay silently on the concrete with only the sound of the crickets singing outside the fence.   
I feel my eyes sting and my lips quiver as a minute passes. What have we done? I blink hard, biting my lower lip to keep away the signs of emotion. I hear him move and I turn my head away from him to keep him from seeing the tears shining in my eyes. I swallow a whimper that rises in my throat, fighting with the tears. I do my best to push them down and away from me.   
Derek rises from the concrete and silently goes to his clothing. Quietly, he dresses, his brows pulled into a deep frown, his jaw set. Is he still angry, or is he regretting what we just did like I am?   
“Get up.” His voice breaks the silence.   
He sounds like he still angry. A quiet moan leaves my lips as I feel fresh tears rise against my lower lids, threatening to break free. I slowly sit up, feeling an ache start deep within me. I quickly dash away a stray tear as I push myself to my feet as he ordered.   
He has gathered my clothes and he hands them to me. His voice is my quieter and much softer as he says, “Get dressed.”   
With shaking hands, I pull my pants on, forgetting the shredded panties. I slide the bra onto my arms and try my best to snap it behind me. My vision blurs even further as I fumble with the strap. Frustration and anger magnifies the small annoyance and I grit my teeth, ready to rip the article of clothing from my body and toss it aside.   
Warm fingers brush my back, gently taking the strap from my quivering fingers. I lower my hands and let him close the strap, hoping beyond hope that this is the regret showing through.   
I take the moment that he is behind me, to wipe away the tears that keep breaking from my eyes. I take deep breathes trying to calm myself, but my eyes remain constantly wet.  
He lingers longer than necessary, but then steps away, allowing me to pull the shirt over my head by myself.   
When I am fully dressed he begins to walk away, saying, “Come with me.” I hesitate to follow his instructions. But then I realize that if I leave him now, I may never get him back and I would hate that more than what had just happened. For all the pain aching through me, nothing could be as severe as what I felt when he left my apartment, leaving me hunched over the couch in tears. If I lose him a second time, I don't know if I'll make it.   
He disappears through the back door of the hotel and I have no choice but to follow. My boots dangle from my hands as I make my way after him. The air conditioning inside is a stark contrast to the warm humidity outside. It sharpens my senses, shaking me from the heavy daze that I was in after the rough sex. I quickly pull myself together, rubbing away the last of the tears.   
Goosebumps pepper my arms as I pass the desk lady. Her eyes are wide as she watches us go to the stairs. I don't meet her eye; I just hurry after Derek. She doesn't say anything, and I wonder if she heard us.   
Derek is ahead of me, his stride long and determined. His shoulders are drawn tensely, his hands curled into fists at his sides. Rows of doors pass us by as I trail after him, watching the dull carpet run away beneath my feet. I almost run into him when he stops at his door. I pull up quickly, keeping my head down.   
Not only is the sadness running me through, but so is the shame. For what, I can't understand, but the weight of it keeps my chin on my chest. Perhaps it is for letting him do what he did. Maybe it is for saying all those things that he told me to. Maybe it is for yelling at him the way I did. Perhaps it is all of these things.   
He stands aside and I enter the room, dropping my boots by the edge of the bed. I hear the door close behind me, but I don't turn to face him. He is silent and failing to flip the switch and fill the room with light. The darkness and the freezing air the AC sets a cold atmosphere further intensified by the tension between us. It is almost tangible. I feel like I could turn and touch it, grab it from the air. But I don't turn. I don't break the silence.   
“Turn around.” His voice is quiet.   
I resist, keeping my back to him. I want him back, but at this moment, I don't know how to get that. At the same time, I want to make him pay for the all the hurt he's caused me in a few short hours.  
“Emily, please.” His voice softens and he almost sounds sad. “Look at me.”   
I hesitate a moment longer, before I turn to face him. His eyes are black as night, whether from the low lighting or from anger and sadness, I can't tell. But they glisten, sending a bit of hope. His jaw isn't taut as a bowstring any longer and his hands hang limply at his sides.   
At first, he doesn't say anything and I am surprised to see the moisture gathering in his eyes. My mouth opens a quarter of an inch as I watch his lips quiver and then his jaw clench. His eyes snap shut, cutting of the picture of the tears in his eyes. His fingers curl as he brings himself under subjection. When he opens his eyes, his body slackens again, and he whispers, “Let me see what I have done.”   
I'm so stunned by his show of emotion that I don't understand what he means at first. But then I realize it and I delay to do what he's asking for a moment. But then I think of the emotion swimming in those dark eyes.   
I gather the hem of my shirt in my fingers and slowly lift it over my head. My weak hand go to my pants and open them. I let them pool at my feet as I reach behind myself to unlatch my bra. I let it glide down my arms to the floor, revealing the aching and bruised flesh. I step out of the pants and lift my eyes to him to see his expression even more crushed than before.   
“Emily...” He comes to me, pulling me against him with one hand at my lower back and the other at my neck. He presses his lips to my forehead, holding me as gently as a porcelain doll. “Emily, I'm sorry.” He whispers, his voice riddled with contrition. “I don't know what I was thinking. About everything. I love you, and I would never want to lose you. If you'll forgive me, I promise with all my heart that I'll make this up to you, somehow. Even if you don't forgive me, I'll still try. Just, please....” His voice fades.   
“I'm sorry too.” I whisper.   
“No. You have nothing to be sorry about.” He says, pulling away from me and looking me in the eyes. “You do not apologize.”   
“But-”  
“No.”   
I nod, understanding that he's not going to let me be sorry for anything. “Okay.” I whisper. “Just... just promise me that you'll never leave again.”  
“I shouldn't've in the first place. I can promise you that I'll never go anywhere ever again.” He says with conviction. But then, he quiets and there is a question in his eyes.   
“What?”  
“Will you allow me....?” His hand comes up to barely brush over my breast.   
I pause and I can see that he is keeping a tenuous reign on desperation as he says, “I won't ever hurt you like that again. I'll fix this.” His brushes his thumbs over my aching flesh of my nipple. “I'll heal these.” His palm slides down to the bruises on my hips and legs. “If you'll let me.”  
I feel the tears emerging once more. But this time, it is not from pain or hurt. “Please...” I whisper, not caring if the emotion enters my voice, “Please.... take me....”   
Relief floods his eyes and he rips the shirt off over his head. He quickly unbuckles his belt, ripping away the barriers of his pants and shorts. When he is naked next to me, he draws me to him again and kisses me as gently as I have ever known. When he has stunned me with that, he places me on the bed with care and comes down next to me to tenderly wrap me in an embrace of love, and fill me with the assurance of his regret but also his dedication and determination to fulfill his promise.   
It only took ten minutes for me to regain my life.


End file.
